


oh, how heavy the night

by earlgrey_milktea



Series: as long as you stand by me (ffxv works) [11]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Promptis Week, Snapshots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 10:23:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12106650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlgrey_milktea/pseuds/earlgrey_milktea
Summary: noctis never wanted to be the prince.he's not sure he'll ever be good enough for what the fates have in store for him.





	oh, how heavy the night

**Author's Note:**

> **good enough**
> 
> this took me way too long for choppy writing sorry; i haven't written in past tense in a long time so i apologize for any weird tenses  
> rated for heavier topics and tone i guess
> 
> also not sure if i managed to even hit the /promptis/ part of this lol it's more of a subtle undertone aha

The earliest memory you have is one of you clinging to your father’s shoulders, and his arms, so strong back then, cradling you close to his chest. There were many black-clad figures around, all solemn and silent behind your father. You didn’t understand that he was King, back then. You didn’t understand why, even though the skies were clear and the sun was shining, everyone walked as if it was pouring rain. You didn’t understand the significance of the flowers you were given to place upon the shiny slab of marble.

Your father’s cheek was scratchy, tickling you gently. That was the only time you saw him cry so openly.

 

 

 

Being a kid in a Citadel full of important and way-too-busy-for-you adults wasn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

You were shuffled from empty room to room empty, followed by a set number of Crownsguards and a few maids each time. There was a tutor waiting for you in every room. They’re always too serious, too old, too boring, too impatient. It wasn’t long before you come to hate these sessions. 

“I want to see my dad,” you demanded when your brain just refused to learn any more arithmetic. 

“I’m afraid that’s not possible, Highness,” the stinky old man who mumbled his way through calculations told you. 

You asked again, the next day. And the next. And the next. But the answer was always the same. The numbers and letters on the books placed in front of you blurred until you couldn’t make out a single thing. 

It didn’t matter, anyway. You weren’t smart enough to figure out why your own father didn’t want to see you. All you knew was that you weren’t enough. 

 

 

 

Ignis is the first friend you ever made. Though, for the longest time, you weren’t sure you could call him that. Friends weren’t introduced to you at such a young age and taught to look after you for the rest of your life. Friends weren’t trained to be prepared for everything and anything, in order to better you every step of the way.

He was nice, mostly. You’d never met another person your age before. He listened to you more than anyone else, and he spent more time with you than anyone else. He was a stickler for rules, but he could be convinced to skive off whatever duties you had scheduled that day to explore the Citadel with you. 

Ignis was smart. He was smarter than anyone you knew, and you’re so incredibly proud because that’s Ignis, he’s your royal advisor-to-be. 

But standing next to him, following him as he carried stacks and stacks of books, you’ve never felt more stupid. You’re clumsy, you’re small, you’re irresponsible, you’re lazy. You could only stumble along behind him, struggle to keep your head up, even as you realized that you’re nothing compared to Ignis.

 

 

 

The Marilith attacked without warning. It took the entire royal procession by surprise, Crownsguards and Glaive alike leaping into action to protect the King and his son. 

You couldn’t do anything. Your nanny was cut down protecting you, and you couldn’t do a single thing. All you could do was stare at the blood staining your skin, the lifeless eyes of the woman who raised you. The angry shrieking of the monster still rang in your ears.

Then the searing pain in your spine was piercing through you, and you screamed and screamed and screamed. 

 

 

 

Tenebrae was beautiful, as beautiful as a dream. 

For once, your father was right there by your side. For once, there was no daily agenda moving you from one appointment to the next. For once, you could stay in bed and read comics all day.

Luna entered your life with the scent of sylleblossoms and a presence as calming as the white of her dress. She told stories about the gods, about magic, about things way before your time. She listened to your own stories about a little Astral that talked to you through your phone. She was just as beautiful as Tenebrae, if not more.

So when the Empire broke down the glass doors and stained your eyes red once more, you were angry. You were terrified, you were too small, too easily whisked away into the arms of the Glaive. Your last glimpse of Luna was the proud tilt of her chin, hiding the trembling of her fingers, the fear in her eyes. 

All the while your mind was chanting,  _ useless useless useless useless— _

 

 

 

You hated Gladio when you first started training with him. 

He’s bossy, he’s loud, he’s bigger than you, he’s stronger than you. You know now what is expected of you, how heavy the title  _ Crown Prince of Insomnia _ really is. Gladio only served to further hammer in the painful nail. 

“Get up,” Gladio demanded. He’s wielding a wooden practice sword, and even after an hour of nonstop sparring, he looked like he hadn’t even broken a sweat.

“I can’t,” you said.

Gladio nudged you with his boot. “Get up,” he repeated. “There’s no  _ I can’t _ when you’re the prince,  _ Your Highness. _ ”

You glared at him.

Gladio glared back.

It hurt, the bruises Gladio’s practice sword harvested. But you were used to this body aching and throbbing, had learned to ignore the constant dull pain stemming from that injury down your back. What hurt more was the understanding that you weren’t improving fast enough. You weren’t trying hard enough. 

You couldn’t help but wonder if you will ever be enough.

 

 

 

Your father sent you to public school in hopes of you having as ‘normal a life as possible.’ Except he didn’t account for the fact that you were the heir to the throne and everyone knew about it.

The lessons weren’t hard. The tutoring sessions had lessened over the years, but you could quite easily top the class with all the accelerated learning. It helped that Ignis was there when you needed. 

What was hard was pretending you were fine with eating lunch alone. Sitting out recess alone. Watching other kids play tag together while you found some unsuspecting corner to hide in. Waiting for the sleek black car to take you home, alone.

The quiet kid with the camera sparked curiosity in you. There’s something warm in his blue eyes and the freckles across his cheeks that reminded you of sunshine, and you wanted to know why. He didn’t try approaching you again, though. You lingered at the school entrance, you hovered by the classroom doors, but he kept his head down. You must have scared him off.

You couldn't even gather the courage to approach a potential friend, how could you ever hope to become a King?

 

 

 

Your father looked older and wearier every time you saw him. You hated it.

“How is school?” he’d ask over dinner. Beans again. You watched him push the hated vegetable around his plate, and you mirrored him wordlessly.

“Fine,” you’d answer.

It’s awkward, stilted. But then he’d smile at you, and suggest that you take a weekend off for a fishing trip down by the lake. Just the two of you. 

You realize now that you never did end up taking that trip.

 

 

 

Moving out of the Citadel for high school was your decision entirely. Your father was reluctant, but he defended your decision to the council anyway. You promised to come back for weekly dinners.

High school came with new responsibilities. You were expected to read the minutes and reports of meetings, learn the policies and attend certain events. You were expected to keep up with schoolwork and training and also devote enough energy to the Crystal. It was too much and not enough.

But Prompto re-entered your life, and it was like engaging with a small sun. He didn’t care for your heavy titles or distant formalities. He laughed with abandon, and you were so fascinated with the way his eyes lit up when he looked at you. When you were with Prompto, you weren’t Prince Noctis, next in line for the throne of Lucis. You were just Noctis, Prompto’s best friend. You were enough.

 

 

 

“It would be nice if you could pick up after yourself,” Ignis remarked in your second year. 

He didn’t mean anything by it, and even you agreed that he was right. Your apartment was starting to look more like an abandoned junkyard than the residence of royalty. But it’s just so hard these days. You watched your father’s condition worsen on tv, you listened to news of Niflheim closing in on the kingdom borders. Your own body betrayed you on cloudy days when it all was too much, and you’re stuck in your bed with the overwhelming fear that you’ll never be able to hold the Wall up, you’ll never be able to measure up to what the council and your father and Ignis and Gladio and the rest of this fucking kingdom was expecting of you. 

You’re terrified with the idea that you’re not good enough to walk this path that fate had written for you.

 

 

 

Prompto became your escape.

He never asked about your other life, the life trapped behind glass walls and held up high on a pedestal. He never expected you to be anything more than his best friend. Being with him was like being allowed to breathe after being submerged underwater for years and years and years. You liked spending afternoons at the arcade with him, you liked falling asleep on the couch against him. You liked him, you liked him, you liked him.

Prompto is the only one that has ever made you feel enough.

 

 

 

When the details of the treaty was declared, you were struck speechless. You knew it was coming, sooner or later, being born to a throne you didn’t really want. But this, this political marriage in a time of war, it was too soon. 

Lucis didn’t have a choice. You never did, either.

“At least you like Luna,” Prompto said in an attempt to cheer you up. You’d holed up in his apartment to hide from the media and your ‘guards.

“Not like that,” you confessed in the safety of his bedroom.

“Oh,” he said back. Then, quieter, he said, “I’m sorry.”

You wanted to tell him not to be sorry. It’s not his fault. He had nothing to be sorry for. He’s always been good to you, good for you. You wanted to tell him, if anything, he should be saying  _ you’re welcome  _ because he’s been everything right when everything was wrong. As your world was falling apart, Prompto, in his quiet, unassuming way, pieced it back together.

“Will you come with me?” you asked.

There were gentle fingers in your hair, and you allowed yourself to drift off in Prompto’s bed.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather go, Noct.” 

 

 

 

You’d never seen your father look so proud and so small at the same time. He had to take his cane everywhere now, but still, he looked you in the eye and wished you a safe trip.

For a moment there, you were tempted to stay. You could turn around and walk back up those steps and refuse to move an inch out of the Citadel. You could stay by your father’s side and continue to fight against the Empire from here. You could stay.

But your father clasped his hand on your shoulder, and told you to walk tall.

You weren’t certain you can, with this invisible weight upon your shoulders, but you tried anyway. 

You’re still trying.

 

 

 

Those first few days outside the Wall were the best days you’d had in a long while. You were with your most trusted friends, sun on your backs, and a reunion ahead of you. Even if you weren’t quite ready to be married, it was nice to be able to see Luna again. And with the best company at your side.

Then it all went to shit.

 

 

 

The night Insomnia fell, you couldn’t sleep. It was like the whole of Eos was caving in above your head, and you were drowning in the very air you breathe. You were supposed to go home after all this. You were supposed to be by your father’s side. You should have been there. You should have— 

“Noct?”

Prompto found you on the balcony. He didn’t say anything, didn’t need to. He just sat next to you, close enough for you to feel his warmth. 

“What if I can’t do it?” you whispered. “What if... I’m not enough?”

It was the first time you admitted it out loud. It scared you, how impossible everything seemed. You were just a kid. How could you ever hope to even make a difference?

“You know,” Prompto said, “I ask myself that all the time. It’s not a good feeling, is it? And your whole being the prince and the Chosen King and everything... It must be really scary.”

You could only nod.

“It sucks,” Prompto said. He leaned against your shoulder, and the familiar contact was the quiet comfort you’d been seeking. “But you know, Noct... I know it’s hard to believe it sometimes, but trust me. I think—no, I  _ know _ —that you are. Good enough. You’re more than good enough to me.”

He looked at you steady, steady as the sun you knew was waiting to rise in a few hours. Even in moonlight, he seemed to glow. 

The world still felt like it was about to fall down around you, but with Prompto by your side, you started to believe that maybe, just maybe, you could be enough.

 

 

 

Altissia falls.

You were not enough.

 

 

 

“It’s not your fault,” Prompto told you.

But it was. Luna gave everything, and it wasn’t enough. You should have tried harder. You could have—you could have done something. And now, Luna was gone. Ignis’ sight was gone. Your own brotherhood, cracked and stained. 

“It’s not your fault,” Prompto told you.

But he’d probably say something different after you pushed him off the train.

 

 

 

Losing your home was devastating. Losing Luna was heartbreaking. Losing Prompto was almost too much.

He didn’t deserve any of this. None of them do, but Prompto was supposed to be your friend. Barely two years of Crownsguard training, he came along for moral support. He came along because you asked him to. 

If you couldn’t even save your best friend, how could you possibly be good enough to save the world?

 

 

 

“I’m sorry,” you said. 

Prompto still trembled in your arms. His freckled skin was marked over with unspeakable horrors, and there was something fragile in his eyes that wasn’t there before. Your chest ached at the sight. You wished beyond anything you could return him to brighter days, happier days.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I can’t—I’m not—”

“No,” Prompto said. His fingers shook, but they’re warm against your cheek. “You are, Noct. I believe in you.”

You wished he didn’t.

 

 

 

The map of fate you were given was never in your favour. You know this now. But back then, you felt so trapped in the role the Astrals assigned you. 

The ten years the Crystal stole from you would never be returned. You know this. And you rue it every single day. But as you stand before the ruins of what was once your home, your friends and brothers by your side, you stand tall.

“Ready to do this?” Prompto asks. He stands to your left, as always. He looks different, more mature, more weary. Yet he looks the same as he was a seventeen, sitting next to you on the rooftop, camera around his neck and eyes bright with the city lights of Insomnia. You want to go home with him.

“The final battle,” Ignis says.

“Finally here,” Gladio smirks.

You look at them all. They look back at you, steady, ready. You look at Prompto. He smiles at you, and even though this endless night has been heavy on your heart and mind, you swear the sun has come out just now, however briefly.

“Let’s go,” you say.

And you walk tall.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> regis..... was a good dad....... he was trying his best....... they all were......
> 
> find me crying about all these kids @puddingcatbae on tumblr/twitter


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